Tiger, here’s a road map for the comeback trail

This is the week of the Accenture Match Play golf tournament near Tucson. It was also the week Tiger Woods was coming back, according to published reports.

Well, he’s not, and our sympathy goes out to tournament organizers, whose media requests went from 800 to eight.

Still, all logic says Tiger is not going to be gone forever. You can’t be able to hit a two-iron 250 yards and straight and not play again. The golf gods won’t allow that.

We’ve all pretty much gotten over the revelations that he isn’t St. Peter. It took a bit longer only because he spent so much time trying to convince us he was. He didn’t violate any laws, just a lot of public trust.

But time is marching on and the Masters is right around the corner, and if he doesn’t come back soon, we could acquire bad habits, like watching figure skating.

It’s likely he is ready to return, but not quite sure how. Certainly, he is surrounded by advisors with college degrees in public relations, some with PhDs in spin.

But just in case the idea bank has run dry, we thought we’d weigh in. Here goes:

Ignore the PR types and follow your heart. If they are telling you to do what feels best and is honest, then do it. But be prepared for PR types not to tell you that.

Have a news conference away from the golf course, away from the usual sites for blockbuster media events -- namely, New York or L.A. Do it in Flint, Mich., or Youngstown, Ohio, where it is cold and grim, the economy is awful and your presence would be a huge boost. No other reason needed. Don’t worry about the media getting there. For this, we’d fly to the moon.

Come in smiling. Your best healing weapon now is that gorgeous smile. Start from the beginning. Give details of exactly what happened that night after Thanksgiving. Make Howard Cosell proud. Tell it like it was.

Then take questions, and give the first one to Doug Ferguson, longtime Associated Press golf reporter, who is trusted, respected and deserves that. Then, let them flow. Take them all. Be patient with the blow-dried guy from Channel 59 in Poughkeepsie, who will make a statement instead of asking a question so he is sure to get extra airtime. Come to grips with the fact that there will be bigger creeps than you will ever be, asking you questions about why you were such a creep.

Eventually, announce your comeback plans. Lower expectations. Say you don’t expect to win for a while. That’s a little white lie we can live with. Announce that, in addition to the majors, you will play in a couple of places you haven’t frequented, places such as Milwaukee and Memphis.

Address your endorsement situation by expressing understanding about sponsors leaving, and pledge that any willing to come back, as well as new ones, should know that all of that money, for at least the next three years, will go to charity, especially your school in Orange County.

Talk about how much, or how little, you have been able to practice. Talk about the other players, about maybe watching Steve Stricker effectively become No. 1 in your absence, while pronouncing after he did so that “We all pretty much know who the best player in the world is.” Have some fun with that. Work on your self-effacing humor.

When you are done, hang around for the little group follow-ups, like other golfers do. No more Tiger-out-the-door-to-the-limo stuff, like the past.

Then come back and play. If you miss a cut, smile that smile, talk about it and make fun of yourself. Keep the fist pumps and get rid of the club tosses and easy-to-lip-read curses. Matter of fact, get rid of caddie Stevie. His bad-cop routine won’t fly now. The first camera he breaks will be an image setback.

And Elin shouldn’t be there unless she truly wants to be there, and you truly want that too. If it looks like PR window dressing, we’ll see it.

Sign autographs like Phil Mickelson, who never stops and whose adoring public never forgets that he never stops.

And keep smiling, through the pain, frustration and blow-dried guys with microphones.

Don’t just do it for yourself, but for us, before it gets too late and we start to care about the triple lutz.

bill.dwyre@latimes.com